


Brother, May I?

by MaxWrite



Category: British Actor RPF, Harry Potter RPF
Genre: Dom/sub, M/M, RPF, Rimming, Twincest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-05-28
Updated: 2006-05-28
Packaged: 2017-10-24 18:42:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/266646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaxWrite/pseuds/MaxWrite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James is a moody, fussy, defiant teenager who'll let nobody tell him what to do ... well, almost nobody.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Brother, May I?

“Hurry _up,_ James!”

Susan never heard the unintelligible grumbling emitted by her youngest son. He trudged along behind her, glaring at the back of her head, his carry-on bag hanging off his shoulder.

“Did you hear me?” she called back.

“Yes, mum,” he muttered, actually slowing his pace.

To his right, his twin sighed. “Come on, Jay. They’re not gonna hold the plane just ‘cause we’re film stars.” Oliver quickened his pace. James’s eyes focused on Oliver’s back as Oliver pulled ahead of him.

And James sped up to catch up to him. In no time, they were striding alongside their parents. Susan glanced up at Oliver and frowned.

“What?” he asked.

“Nothing,” she mumbled. “Let’s just hurry.”

 

“James, don’t sleep.”

“Mmph.”

“James, get up.”

“Grr.”

“Don’t you ‘grr’ me. If you sleep now, you won’t be able to fall asleep till late tonight and then you’ll have trouble getting up in the morning. I’m not dealing with that on this trip, young man.”

“I’m not sleeping, mum, jeez.”

“Then why are your eyes closed?”

“Can sleeping people have pointless conversations with their mothers?”

“Don’t speak to her that way,” said Oliver calmly, flipping the page of his magazine.

James slumped further down in his seat, but opened his eyes. “Sorry, mum,” he grumbled.

“And stay awake. You do have trouble getting up in the morning.”

“Okay, Ollie.”

Susan narrowed her eyes at them from across the aisle.

“I’m bored,” James complained to Oliver.

“So, do something.”

“Like what?”

“Play a video game.”

“I did that already.”

“So, listen to your iPod.”

“I did that already.”

“Read a magazine.”

“You’ve got the only good one.”

“Put on the headphones and watch something.”

“No, it’s all boring.”

Oliver sighed and glanced at James. “Would you like to read my magazine with me?”

James grinned sweetly at him. “Yes, please.”

“Okay then.”

James happily snuggled closer as Oliver moved the magazine onto the armrest so James could see it, too. With his face turned slightly in James’s direction, he could see their mother out of the corner of his eye. She was watching them.

“What?” he asked, looking past James’s head at her.

“Nothing,” she said innocently and went back to watching the in-flight movie.

 

“I’ll carry that,” said Martyn, reaching for a suitcase.

“You’re already carrying too much,” said Susan. “And that’s the one with the wonky wheel, it’s a right pain to deal with. I’ll take it. Here, James, take this.”

James made a face at his mother’s little pink carry-on. “I’m not carrying that.”

“James,” she said warningly.

“It’s pink!”

“I’ll carry it,” offered Oliver, taking it from Susan. “James you take the big suitcase, then.”

“It’s heavy,” James pouted.

“Yes, it is.”

“I said I’d take it,” said Martyn.

“Well, if you take that, then you’re putting down some of that other stuff,” said Susan.

“Why? I can handle all this.”

“With your back? Are you mad?”

“I like dad’s idea,” said James, crossing his arms.

“You would,” said Martyn.

“This is ridiculous,” said Susan. “We’re never getting out of this airport.”

“Okay, everybody relax!” said Oliver firmly. “I’ll take the big suitcase. James, you take this.” And he thrust the little pink carry-on at his brother. James eyed it distastefully. “Yes, I know it’s pink,” Oliver went on. “But at least it doesn’t weigh a ton.”

“Oh, come on,” whined James.

Oliver raised his eyebrows. “Take it, James.”

James rolled his eyes, but took the small bag from Oliver anyway.

“You all right, Ol?” asked Martyn as Oliver grasped the large case’s handle.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Let’s be off, then.”

Susan watched the boys as they began walking.

“I’ll take that,” she muttered, reaching out and taking her bag from James.

Oliver frowned. “But mum, you’ve already got -”

“I said I’ll take it. It’s fine.” And at that, she stalked on ahead of them all.

 

Martyn sat on the hotel bed and pulled off his socks. Susan puttered past him with a stack of clothing.

“We can unpack tomorrow,” he said. “It’s late, can’t we just -”

“No. I have to do this now.”

She placed the clothes in a drawer, then went back to the open suitcase and pulled out more.

“The clothes aren’t going anywhere, you know.”

“Yes, they are. They’re going into the dresser.”

“Susan, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong. What makes you think something’s wrong?”

“Your obsessive-compulsiveness always gets worse when you’re upset. What’s up?”

She sighed as she began to hang shirts from the stack she was holding. “James …”

“Oh, lord, what’s the boy done now?”

“Nothing, nothing. Well, nothing that I know of. It’s just … have you noticed how obedient he is for Oliver?”

Martyn shrugged and dropped his socks on the floor. He swung his legs up onto the bed and brought the covers up to his waist. “Um … I guess so, yeah. Why, what’s wrong with that?”

“Well, he doesn’t listen to me anymore.”

“Is that what this is about?”

“Yes.”

“He’s a teenager, Sue, he’s not supposed to listen to us.”

“We’re his parents.”

“Well, yes, but … You know what I mean. He’s going to be rebellious. You just have to be firm with him. S’what I do.”

“Yes, but Oliver usually doesn’t have to be. James just _obeys_ him. What’s that about?”

“It’s probably a twin thing, I dunno. Oliver’s always looked after James.”

Susan sighed.

“He doesn’t hate you.”

“I know that!”

“Do you? I think you think James hates you. He doesn’t. He’s a teenage boy, he’s just not sure what to make of you, is all.”

“But _why?”_

Martyn shrugged. “’Cause you’re his mother. You’re a woman and you’re his mother. You confuse him.”

She snorted. “Hell, sometimes I confuse you.”

“Oh, you better believe that.”

She smiled down at the remaining shirts hanging over her arm.

“And you nag him.”

“I do not.”

“You do and you know it. I know you nag because you love us, but he’s not liable to understand that at his age, is he?”

Her smile faded. “I’m going to go check on them.”

“Oh, I’m sure James’ll love that.”

“I just want to make sure everything’s okay.”

“What do you think they’ve done over there? Hired themselves a stripper? Ordered up some cocaine or something?”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, please, you don’t _order_ cocaine. It’s not like pizza delivery, Martyn.”

“Well, now, how do you know?”

She tossed the shirts onto a chair. “I’m going over there. Be right back.”

 

“Ollie? Oliver!”

Oliver turned to see his mother hurrying down the hall to get to him. “What’s the matter?” he asked.

“Nothing,” she said, stopping before him. “I just wanted to come and see how you boys were doing.”

“We’re fine. I’m just going to get some ice, James wanted a drink.” He held up the bucket. “You and dad settled in?”

“Yeah. You’ll get James off to bed soon, won’t you?”

“Course.”

She nodded. “Good, good. Good.”

“Mum, what’s wrong? You’ve been acting funny since we left home.”

She looked up at him, studied his face. “What is it with you and James? Is it a twin thing or what?”

“Is what a twin thing?”

“He listens to you. He used to listen to me. Well, more than he does now anyway. Now everything I say is met with some sort of argument or belligerence.”

“Well, he’s a teenager.”

“That’s what your father said. And it’s true, I know, but … well, you’re not like that.”

Oliver smiled down at his bucket. “No. No, I’m not. James thinks I’m a bit of a square. No, actually, he thinks I’m a lot of a square.”

“But why aren’t you like that? I mean, if it’s a teenager thing, then -”

“Well, one of us has to be the ‘good twin’. Otherwise, nothing would ever get done.”

“But he behaves so well for you. You make him behave.”

“I don’t _make_ him behave. He just … he just …”

“He just does. For you.”

Oliver’s brow furrowed with worry. “Does that hurt you? It does, doesn’t it?”

She lowered her gaze. “A little bit, yeah. I just … Oh, I know I’m being silly.”

“No, you’re not. Course it hurts you. No wonder you kept looking at me funny.”

“Oh, dear, was I?”

Oliver chuckled. “Yeah. Every time I’d get James to do something he wouldn’t do for you.”

“Oh, I’m horrible.”

“You’re not horrible. I could talk to him if you want.”

“No, don’t say anything! I don’t want him to know I had this chat with you.”

“I don’t have to tell him we spoke.”

She was about to protest, but stopped herself. She nodded. “Thank you, Oliver. You’re a good boy. Not that James isn’t a good boy, of course he is, he’s just …”

“A rebel.”

“Right.”

“Well, like me, he has to adhere to a stereotypical twin role, doesn’t he? You know, he doesn’t do everything I say.”

“Of course he does.”

“No, he doesn’t. I can think of plenty of times he’s completely ignored me.”

“But not when it counts. Not when you’re serious. He’s not stupid, he can tell when it doesn’t really matter. He listens when you mean it. He doesn’t do that for me anymore.”

A knot of guilt formed in Oliver’s chest. “I’m sorry, mum.”

“I’m not blaming you, Ollie.”

“I know you’re not, but I’m sorry anyway. It shouldn’t be like this. I’m definitely going to talk to him. You all right?” He placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Better, actually, now we’ve spoken.” She patted his hand, grateful for its supportive presence. “Thank you. Well, erm, as you were, then. Goodnight, love.”

“G’night, mum.” He leaned over and kissed her cheek, then turned and continued on his way to the ice machine at the end of the hall. She watched him for a moment, watched his tall, lanky frame make its way down the hall with an odd, almost loping grace. She smiled at his back for a few moments more, then forced herself to turn away and return to her room.

 

Oliver returned to his and James’s room with a full bucket of ice and his mind buzzing with questions. He was certain he wasn’t the only one James listened to. That was absurd.

James was lounging on his stomach on one of the beds, laptop open and glowing.

“Still thirsty?” asked Oliver.

“What?” asked James distractedly, frowning up at him. “Oh, no, not really.”

Oliver rolled his eyes and placed the bucket on top of the mini fridge. “What’re you looking at?”

“Oh, nothing,” James replied in a sing-songy voice. Oliver went over and sat next to him and took a look at the computer screen.

“It’s … what is that?”

“Just a bit of light reading.”

Oliver read a few lines. “Oh, god, you’re not seriously reading that stuff, are you?”

“Why not? I like to see what the fans write about us.”

“It’s not one of those … _dirty_ ones, is it?”

A mischievous smile played across James’s mouth. When he didn’t answer right away, Oliver looked down at the top of his head in disbelief.

“James!”

“There’s no harm in looking, is there?”

“Well, I don’t know, but don’t you think it’s weird?”

“A bit, yeah. But I’m curious.”

“It could make things really uncomfortable between us, you know.”

“How? Do you plan on ravishing me tonight?”

Oliver stood up immediately and headed for the bathroom. “I’m not even going to dignify that with an answer.”

“You really must loosen up one of these days, you know.”

“Just change out of your clothes. It’s nearly time for bed.”

Oliver stepped into the bathroom and went for his toothbrush. His hand stopped before reaching it, and he looked up into the mirror. His mother’s words echoed in his head: _“But he behaves so well for you. You make him behave.”_

He let his hand drop to the countertop and shook his head a bit to quiet the echo inside it. It was reigniting his guilt. Yes, as the older twin, he was somewhat responsible for James, but surely James didn’t see it that way. James only listened to him more often because they were equals, whereas Mum was an authority figure. Yes. That must be it.

And just exactly how much power did their mother think he had over James, anyway?

He tried to force himself to stop wondering. He didn’t have time for this. They had a very busy day tomorrow and had to be up early. He proceeded to wash up for bed.

When he emerged from the bathroom, James had obediently removed his clothing and was lying in the same spot on his bed in boxers only, still staring at the laptop screen.

“Bathroom’s free, go wash up,” Oliver said without thinking.

James closed the laptop, rolled off the bed and promptly went to the bathroom to do as he’d been told. Oliver watched him go, his eyes following James’s bare back across the room until it disappeared behind the wall that separated room from bathroom, and he continued to stare at that wall as he contemplated what had just taken place.

 _Why_ was James so compliant? If it’d been their mother who’d told him to get ready for bed, he would’ve eventually obeyed, yes, but not without several minutes of protesting and whining. And why had none of this ever dawned on Oliver before? James had always been a bit moody, which had only gotten worse as they’d entered their teens. Oliver had always tried to keep the peace between James and their parents, had always tried to make sure everything ran smoothly. It had never occurred to him to question why James wasn’t ever belligerent towards him.

And why was it so easy to tell James what to do? He’d issued that last command with nary a thought.

He sat down on James’s bed, looked down at the laptop, then looked away. He listened to the water running in the bathroom, looked around the room, glanced out the window at the building across the street, then down at James’s open bag that had clothing spilling out, then back at the laptop sitting on his left.

“Silliness,” he muttered, getting up. He removed everything he was wearing, underwear included, and pulled on a pair of white cotton pyjama pants and sat back down on James’s bed, eyeing the laptop suspiciously. His eyes darted up toward the separator wall. Behind it, the water was still running.

He reached out a tentative hand, touched fingertips to the edge of the laptop, pulled up on it and it began to open. That bluish glow began to seep out. He pushed it all the way open, stared at the words on the screen, began to read somewhere in the middle of a paragraph, heart pounding, breath shallow. He clasped his hands in his lap and sat up straight and stiff as a board as he took in what this stranger had written about him and his brother. He found himself frowning and turning his face slightly away from the screen, staring sidelong at it as he continued to read.

>   
> _“… Oliver ran a hand down James’s smooth back, finally reaching James’s arse. He let his finger slip in between James’s cheeks, located James’s entrance and massaged it gently._
> 
>  _‘Ollie,’ James groaned. ‘Now. I need you inside me now.’”_

He looked away from the screen. His body had become confused, unsure what to do. He felt himself becoming aroused, felt that familiar tingling in his abdomen, but it was at odds with his natural disgust, or what he thought should be natural disgust, and they were both fighting for dominance within him. He pressed his thighs together as his cock stirred inside his pants.

Then there was the fact that he found what he’d read utterly ridiculous, laughable. People actually got off to this stuff? ‘Entrance’ indeed.

 _Close it,_ he told himself. _Close it and get up and go back to your own bed. This is sick._

He didn’t move. He kept glancing at the screen, both wanting and not wanting to read more. He resisted the urge to see just how far fictional James and Oliver would go, but for some reason couldn’t close the laptop, not until the water in the bathroom stopped running a few minutes later. It took him a moment to realise it had stopped, and when he finally did, he quickly closed the laptop, stood up and went to his bed, hands still clasped before his crotch, trying to hide his obvious condition in case James emerged while he was standing. James didn’t, however. Oliver was able to get into his bed and safely beneath the covers before James came out. With the blankets over his lap, he sat cross-legged and stared straight ahead, trying not to picture the things that bit of fanfiction had described.

But he saw it, of course, saw his fingers exploring and probing, saw James glance back at him to beg for penetration. His face grew hot, and he cursed inwardly, knowing he must be turning red.

Then from the bathroom came the tinkling sound of James peeing. Oliver squeezed his eyes shut, now trying desperately not to picture _that_ as well. He flopped back onto the bed and pulled the covers up over his head.

The toilet flushed, the light switch clicked, and muffled footsteps on carpet told Oliver James was out.

“Bed now,” Oliver said from beneath the covers, feeling quite unapologetic for his terseness.

“Okay. G’night.”

There was some bustling as James turned off the laptop, put it aside and finally got in bed. When the bedside lamp was switched off and James stopped fidgeting, Oliver waited a few moments, then pulled the covers down off his face and looked over at James. James was lying on his side, facing Oliver, his eyes closed.

 _Let him sleep,_ Oliver told himself. He closed his own eyes and attempted to relax.

 _“But he behaves so well for you,”_ his mother said. _“You make him behave.”_ The words began to reverberate around inside his skull again as James appeared before his eyes, naked and very aroused, lying on his back, spread open and touching himself, waiting for and wanting his big brother.

Oliver’s eyes popped open again. His dick was throbbing almost painfully. He touched it, placed his hand inside his pants and gripped it, wondering if James would notice if he stroked it just a little bit …

“Stop it!” he whispered harshly to himself.

“Hmm?” asked James, shifting, curling up tighter under his blankets. “What’d you say?”

“Nothing, go to sleep.”

“Okay.”

Oliver sat up at that, sat straight up and looked over at James.

“Why d’you do everything I tell you?” he asked.

James opened his eyes and frowned at him in the moonlight. “What?”

“You obey me, usually without question. You don’t do that for mum or dad anymore. Why me?”

James sat up and turned on the lamp, squinted at his brother. “What’re you on about?”

“Don’t you think I notice the way you treat mum when she’s telling you things for your own good? It’s horrible, James, and embarrassing. You’re too old to be acting that way.”

James’s lower lip protruded ever so slightly. “I’m sorry.”

“Well, you should be … Wait, why aren’t you _arguing_ with me? What is that?”

“I-I dunno. I just don’t see any reason to argue with you. Why are you so upset about it?”

“Because it hurts mum, James. Hadn’t you noticed?”

“No. Does it?”

“Yes! And I don’t want you doing that anymore.”

James pouted more. “Okay, but -”

“But what?”

“Well, I sort of prefer it when you tell me to do things.”

Oliver blinked at him. “Why?”

James lowered his face, looked sheepishly at Oliver. “I dunno. I just like that you look out for me, I guess.”

“Well, of course I look out for you.”

“And I like that you do.” James looked down at his lap. “I like it when you tell me to do stuff.”

Oliver shook his head. “I don’t understand.”

“Neither do I, really.”

Oliver watched him for a moment, examined him closely, trying to figure out what James was talking about. Then his eyes fell on the laptop sitting on the desk across the room. He looked back at James, something dawning on him.

“Why exactly were you reading that story earlier?”

James shrugged.

“Answer me, James.”

James’s chest swelled as he inhaled deeply. He raised his face again and let his breath out slowly through his pursed lips. He looked over at Oliver with wide eyes, but said nothing.

“James,” said Oliver warningly. “I said answer me.”

James took another deep breath, and this time, the meaning of his reaction was much clearer. He looked away again, and after he exhaled, he began breathing slightly harder, biting his bottom lip.

With his eyes focused on James, unblinking, Oliver got up and went and stood next to James’s bed. He stood there, and stared down at the top of James’s head, frowning slightly at it as James pointedly looked anywhere but up.

“James,” said Oliver softly, but firmly. “Look at me, please.”

James obeyed, turning his face slowly upward. His eyes landed briefly on Oliver’s bulging crotch, but, trying to appear unfazed, he kept looking up until his eyes locked with Oliver’s. There was a look on James’s face Oliver had seen before, only now it was more intense than ever. It was a look of openness and readiness and trust without question, of earnestness and helplessness, neediness and desire. Oh, yes, Oliver had seen this look before, several times, in fact, usually when Oliver’s orders were firm and direct. He’d never interpreted the look accurately before, but now he could see it, plain as day: James was turned on by Oliver’s forcefulness. James wanted to obey.

But exactly what was he hoping Oliver would ask him to do?

James’s eyes began to slide downward, down Oliver’s chest, down below his waist, finally landing on his brother’s erection.

“I didn’t say you could look there,” Oliver said quietly, almost under his breath, using the power he now knew he had. James’s eyes popped right back up to his face, his breathing becoming audible.

“Why were you reading that story, James?” asked Oliver.

“I dunno,” muttered James.

“Yes, you do. Tell me.”

“I, well, I dunno, I guess I’m just curious,” James stammered, the words spilling from his mouth as though he feared repercussions if he didn’t answer quickly enough.

“About?”

“About what people want us to do together.”

Oliver blinked at him for a moment, surveying his face, his eyes. “You’re not telling me everything,” he said. “What else? Tell me exactly why you were reading that.”

James hesitated. “Ollie,” he whined, saying Oliver’s nickname more softly than Oliver had ever heard him say it.

“Tell me _now.”_

And the pained expression on James’s face told Oliver just how difficult and unpleasant it must be for James to directly disobey him.

“I can’t,” James said timidly, lowering his face again. “I can’t say it.”

Now it was Oliver’s turn to gulp, for he feared he knew exactly why James was having trouble speaking the truth. “Look at me,” he whispered, and James turned his face back up. “Do you think about doing those things with me?”

A moment’s hesitation, then James nodded. Oliver spun around almost immediately, walked a few paces away and just stood there, facing a wall, chest feeling as though it might burst from the pounding his heart was giving it. If his face had felt hot before, it was nothing compared to this, he could feel his ears burning. And he couldn’t quite tell what he was feeling; shock? Anger? Arousal? Embarrassment? Repulsion? Fear? Excitement? Everything at once?

Yes. Definitely everything at once.

“Are you angry at me?”

Oliver shut his eyes. James’s voice sounded so small, it tugged at Oliver’s heart. He wanted to go to James, he wanted to hug him and tell him everything was okay. But he wasn’t entirely sure that it was.

“No, I’m not angry.”

“I’m sorry, Ol. It’s just …”

Oliver turned his head just enough so that James came into his periphery. “It’s just what?”

“Well, it’s just one of those things, you know, one of those things that’s so wildly inappropriate that you can’t _not_ think about it. You know?”

Oliver frowned. He turned even more and stared at James over his shoulder. “No. No, I don’t know. What the hell does that mean? You shouldn’t want to fuck your brother, therefore you do?” But even as he said it, it began to make some kind of weird sense to him.

“It’s like laughing at a funeral,” James offered with a shrug.

“Er, okay. I understand what you’re saying, but, no, it really isn’t like laughing at a funeral. Not in the slightest. My god, James, how long have you had these feelings?”

“I dunno.”

“Did it start with all this twincest business or what?”

“I don’t know!” James snapped. “Stop interrogating me.”

Oliver sighed, looked away. “I’m sorry. This is just a bit of a shock. You must understand that.”

“I do, yeah … You’re hard, you know.”

Instinctively, Oliver placed his hands before his erection again even though he wasn’t facing James. “Yes, I am aware of that, thanks.”

“How come?”

“Is that really important?”

“Were you reading some of that story while I was -”

“No! … Yes.”

“So, that’s from reading about us? Together?”

Oliver shook his head. “James, don’t …” But movement behind him made him stop. He looked back at James to find that he’d moved to the foot of the bed, closer to where Oliver stood, and was staring up at him with questioning eyes.

And an erection.

Oliver stared down at him in silence. The sweet innocence on his twin’s face made something within him stir and, he now realised, always had. He felt protective and dominant. And suddenly, the urge to show that to James was overwhelming.

He slowly turned around, letting his hands fall at his sides, and he stepped toward James, stood before him. “You can look at it now,” he found himself saying. James looked down at Oliver’s crotch, stared at it. Oliver tried to read his face, but couldn’t. “What are you thinking?” he asked.

James took a deep breath, looked up, opened his mouth and said, “May I see it?”

A perfectly reasonable thing for James to ask given the circumstances, but Oliver still wasn’t certain he’d heard correctly. With a calmness he didn’t really feel, he replied, “Take it out.”

James lowered his gaze again. He reached up and placed his palms flat against Oliver’s waist, and Oliver could now feel that James’s hands were shaking.

“You all right?” he asked. James nodded, moved his hands downward, hooking his fingers over the waistband and pulling it away from Oliver’s body as he began to pull the pants down. Finally, James took his hands away, leaving the waistband around Oliver’s thighs, just below his bottom, and James was staring straight at the glistening slit of Oliver’s dick. James let out a slow, audible breath, and Oliver could hear the shakiness in it.

“It’s okay,” said Oliver softly, reaching out to stroke James’s hair. James looked up again, and this time Oliver could definitely see uncertainty in James’s eyes. Fearing he’d miscalculated what James wanted, he began to pull his pants up.

“No,” said James. “I’m all right. Don’t cover up yet.”

“You look nervous.”

“I’m fine. I want this.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” James nodded. “May I touch it?”

Oliver’s heart pumped faster as he gave James a little nod. James brought his hands up again, took hold of the hard, smooth shaft, pushed it upward so he could see the underside. He examined it for a long while, running his index finger from just under the head all the way down to where Oliver’s balls began. He finally lowered it again, stared at the head and brought his face closer.

“Ask me first,” Oliver demanded, surprising even himself. _Jesus, what am I doing?_ he thought.

James stopped, moved back again. He looked up, right into his brother’s eyes and asked, “May I put it in my mouth?”

Hearing his brother say that, ask that so softly and timidly, made Oliver’s cock jerk in James’s hands. Oliver could see in his mind’s eye what that would look like, what James would look like sucking on him. He could picture James moving forward, opening up and taking the head in his mouth, suckling on it, then moving down further, taking the shaft. In his mind, James’s eyes were closed and he looked serene and content.

 _I can’t let him do this,_ Oliver thought logically. _How the hell did this happen?_

“Yes, you may,” he heard himself say.

His hand was resting quite still on the back of James’s head as James gave Oliver’s slit a little lick, causing Oliver to involuntarily suck air in through his teeth. At that, James looked up, eyes still wide, but more curious now than nervous. Keeping his eyes on Oliver’s face, James began to lick all around the head, a gentle exploration with his tongue, the tip of it pushing against the slit, tasting and teasing. Oliver tried desperately to maintain his composure, staring right back as James began to take the head, suckling on it as Oliver had seen him do in his head. James created suction with his lips, continuing to lick at the slit with his tongue, and Oliver emitted a little grunt before he could stop himself. James’s mouth was too busy to smile, but his eyes conveyed his amusement at his brother’s noise, shining with excitement up at Oliver as he moved forward some more, moving his lips down the shaft, finding a good rhythm, moving back and forth, suckling and licking.

“That’s it,” said Oliver. The words were out before he realised it. “That’s a good boy.”

That bit of praise seemed to encourage James. He began sucking more enthusiastically.

“Ohhh, sweet fucking God,” Oliver groaned, tossing his head back. He placed his other hand on James’s head as well, held on, stroking and gripping James’s hair as James sucked. When he looked back down, he found James was still watching him, looking so completely and impossibly innocent. James had the uncanny ability to look like a sweet little boy, even, and especially, when he was up to no good, and this was the ultimate example of that. Oliver almost wanted to look away, guilt forming behind his chest once again. What was he making his brother do?

As James grew more confident, his eyelids grew heavy, and finally they slid shut. With his eyes closed, he looked awfully content. He even began to groan around Oliver’s erection. He gripped the base with one hand as he removed it from his mouth and began licking up and down the shaft like a hungry kitten. And when he took his brother into his mouth again, he sucked determinedly, using his hand as well to work the shaft while his lips sucked the head. Oliver watched him in amazement, the strangest, most intense feeling of love welling up inside him.

“God, James, you look so sweet like this,” he said, holding James’s head on either side, cradling it as James stroked Oliver’s shaft faster, gripping it tight, sucking the head like a popsicle. James’s eyes popped open again, as round and boyish as ever. Oliver gave him a lopsided grin. “Hello, baby,” he said, so aroused now, the words came disturbingly easily to him. “Do you want me to come?”

“Mm-hm,” James nodded.

“Ask me. Ask me to come for you.”

James removed the head from his mouth and, continuing to stroke the shaft vigorously, he said, “May I watch you come? Please come for me, Ollie. Please?” And his soft voice was dripping with sex now, even as his face remained sweet and innocent. Without waiting for an answer, he angled Oliver’s cock so it was pointed straight at his long, white neck. He tilted his head back as far as he comfortably could, staring into his brother’s eyes as he stroked Oliver to completion.

“Of course you may,” Oliver whispered urgently, beginning to pant like a marathon runner as he finally came all over James’s exposed throat. James continued to stare up at him, a lazy smile playing on his lips at the feeling of being covered in his brother’s fluid, the sight of Oliver coming exciting him further.

“Fuck,” grunted Oliver. “Oh, shite, Jamie …”

James opened his mouth and angled Oliver’s dick so that it deposited a pearly dollop right on his outstretched tongue, extending over the edge of his bottom lip and down his chin. He took it in, savouring it, licking as far down his chin as he could, as Oliver finished coming on his chest.

Oliver panted down at him, the last of his pleasure ebbing away, being replaced immediately by concern. But James didn’t look upset or regretful. Quite the contrary, his eyes were practically dancing. He sat back, taking his hands off his brother, and awaited further instruction, loving the feeling of Oliver’s spunk running down his neck, down his chest and onto his stomach.

Oliver, having pulled his pants back up, glanced round the room, blinking at everything. It all felt hazy and unreal. Then he looked back down at James, stared at him, tried to process what they’d just done together and wondering what he was expected to do next. And James merely sat before him, looking up expectantly. If James had had a tail, it would’ve been wagging. Oliver frowned at him, realising; James was happy. James was very hard inside his boxers, and ready for more of his dominant brother’s demands.

And suddenly, seeing this, Oliver had a burning desire to please his twin, wanted to experience with James every wonderful sensation he could think of, but knew how utterly bizarre what they’d just done was. He had so many conflicting emotions, he could barely make sense of them all.

“Be right back,” he finally said and rushed off to the bathroom. He returned with a towel, sat next to James and proceeded to clean off James’s chest and stomach. James gazed admiringly at him as he did so.

“What?” asked Oliver.

“Hm?”

“You’re staring at me. What?”

James reached up and laid a hand on Oliver’s arm as Oliver dried him off. Oliver met his eyes and found the most loving stare focused on him.

“You always take care of me,” James said softly. “Like this, like what you’re doing now.”

“Don’t be silly. I’m the one who messed you up, it’s only right that I clean you off, isn’t it?”

“I love that about you. I love how you are. I love how you treat me.”

Oliver’s wiping slowed and he gulped as James’s words and the tone in which he’d spoken sunk in. He’d never heard James speak even remotely like that before, not to or about anyone.

With his free hand, James reached up, touched his fingertips to Oliver’s chin, leaned forward and planted a soft, sensual kiss on Oliver’s mouth. Meeting no resistance, James increased the intensity of the kiss, pressing in harder, opening his mouth wider, allowing his tongue out to play.

Oliver stopped wiping altogether. His hand relaxed and let go of the towel, which dropped to the floor. James’s tongue ventured into his mouth, and Oliver let it in. He began to kiss back, finally lowering his wiping hand, laying it on James’s thigh. James’s hands cupped his face, and that felt very right to Oliver. James pressed his body against Oliver’s, and that felt right, too. Oliver let his hand slide up and around to James’s back where it began to rub and press in firmly, holding James against him, and that felt incredibly right as well.

Then Oliver’s mind flashed on their mother, standing out in the hall, sad eyes gazing up at him.

“James,” Oliver managed between James’s hungry nips. James didn’t answer. His hands were exploring Oliver’s bare upper body, finally finding spots they liked, on either side of the ribcage, gripping Oliver there, and James’s kiss became wide and wet as he nudged Oliver down onto his back.

“James …”

It was happening so fast. James was already on top of him, straddling him, rubbing against him. And Oliver wanted it, wanted to give in, to give himself to James, let James have his way with him. He wanted it more than anything.

But this business with their mother still troubled him. Her words still troubled him.

“James!” Oliver snapped, bringing his deepest, most authoritative voice up from somewhere within him. James stopped straight away, raising his head to look at Oliver. His wide-eyed earnestness was back.

“Down,” Oliver ordered. James scrambled off of him, sat on his knees with his hands clasped in his lap and watched Oliver. There was a hint of worry in his eyes, and Oliver instantly felt bad for putting it there.

“I’m sorry I yelled,” he said.

“It’s all right,” James replied immediately.

Oliver sat up, still amazed at James’s eagerness to comply. Had James always been this compliant for him? Oliver couldn’t remember. He was certain James had disobeyed him before, even when he’d been serious about it, as their mother had said. Her words began to stream through his mind again. James was obedient for him. James was always obedient for him. James obeyed all of his orders, because James _wanted_ Oliver to give him orders.

“You want this,” said Oliver softly. “And I’m realising I want this, too.” He slowly stood, walked away from the bed, his mind reeling. “We’ve both been craving this for years.”

“You have, too?” asked James hopefully, his eyes glued to his brother’s back. “All this time?”

Oliver nodded at the wall. “I … I guess I never recognised what it really was.”

He finally turned back around to look at his brother. James was in very much the same position he’d been in earlier, on the bed, near to where Oliver stood, gazing up at him, watching and waiting, earnest and hopeful, boxers still tented. That dominant thing inside Oliver began to stir again. And Oliver made his choice.

Lowering his face just a bit, his gaze intense, he focused on his own lower abdomen, calling up that authoritative voice he knew James couldn’t ignore. “Take your boxers off, James,” he said, his voice low and calm. James took a deep, excited breath as he stood and took hold of the elastisised waist.

“Slowly,” Oliver instructed, sitting down on his bed to watch.

James began to push his boxers down his body, seductively revealing himself to his brother. Oliver stared, trying not to show his nervousness, but unable to stop his eyes from darting. James had undressed in front of him many times before, but never had Oliver sat by and blatantly watched. He felt quite awkward, unsure of where to look and of what to do with his hands. He placed them face down on his thighs, his eyes flitting all over James’s naked form.

Standing tall before his twin, James smiled. “We’ve seen each other naked before, Ol.”

“This is a bit different, wouldn’t you say?”

“Doesn’t have to be.”

“Oh? And how d’you work that out?”

“I went down on you, Oliver.”

Oliver’s eyes locked with James’s.

“I had you in my mouth. D’you have any idea how good, how natural that felt to me?”

Oliver both could and could not fathom that. It seemed at once completely, sinfully wrong and perfectly, naturally right.

“Felt natural having a cock in your mouth, did it?” he asked stubbornly.

“As natural as that can feel, yeah. It was more than the physical act. It was the fact I was performing it on you. Do you get that?” asked James, canting his head. “Giving you pleasure, tasting you; nothing, not one single thing about that felt odd.”

Oliver resumed staring at James’s erection, this time not looking away. “Come here,” he said, once again finding his confidence. James stepped toward him, stood before him, his dick pointed proudly at his twin. Oliver reached up and touched it, wrapped a tentative hand around the solid shaft. James’s cock gave a tiny little jerk in his hand. Oliver felt a surge of excitement, and he couldn’t tell if it had originated within himself, or if he was sensing what James was feeling. Oliver licked his lips, leaned forward and brushed them against the head of James’s cock. He felt James’s hand on his head, gently encouraging his exploration, and he boldly stuck out his tongue, touched it to the head, then promptly took James nearly all the way in.

There was much aroused sighing issuing from above him. He looked up as he sucked; James had let his head fall back, and a long expanse of smooth, white skin towered above Oliver. He watched the chest rise and fall with each breath, watched the throat undulate with each delicious little noise James produced. Oliver could scarcely believe James was making such noises because of something he, Oliver, was doing to him.

A wave of passion washed over Oliver then. He went at James’s hard-on with ravenous hunger, closing his eyes and reaching around to grab onto James’s cheeks. James had been right about the way this felt; it felt perfectly right to Oliver to give to his brother this way.

 _What else might feel right?_ Oliver wondered. He abruptly stopped sucking, and when James looked down, James’s eyes met a fiery lust burning round Oliver’s enlarged pupils.

“Go get on your bed,” Oliver demanded in that low, smoldering voice. “On your stomach. Now.”

James did as he was told, lying on his belly on his bed, then peering around and up at Oliver, wondering what his brother was up to.

“Put your pillows under your hips. Both pillows.” At that, Oliver disappeared into the bathroom again. He returned with a small jar in his hand and found the most gorgeous and enticing sight laid out before him: James’s naked and vulnerable body, the milky slope of his back, sloping even more because of the pillows beneath his crotch, the graceful rise and roundness of his bottom sitting up in the air atop those pillows, the firm twin paths of his thighs just below. Oliver stood at the foot of the bed, taking it all in.

“Spread your legs,” he ordered. James obeyed, separating his legs a comfortable distance. Now Oliver could clearly see James’s little pink hole. He crawled onto the bed, eyes on his target the entire time. Everything about James body – the slight groove down the center of his back, the crack of his arse, the ‘V’ created by his long legs – seemed to lead straight to that point, as though James’s body was silently guiding Oliver to it.

Oliver sat between James’s legs, setting the little jar down next to James’s right hip and staring at his brother’s bottom. He’d never seen James’s naked body like this, never so exposed. It had never occurred to him that ‘exposed’ could have different levels.

He licked his finger and gently pressed its tip to James’s hole. The little puckered ring tightened, then released. Oliver rubbed at it, making a circular motion against it. It convulsed again and James began to squirm.

“D’you like that, baby?” asked Oliver. James gave a little moan in response, his bottom raising up higher as he arched. Pleased with this reaction, Oliver removed his finger and cupped both James’s cheeks instead. He held onto them firmly, spreading them apart a bit more. James spread his legs further, and Oliver could see and feel his thigh and butt muscles tensing as though in anticipation.

Oliver lowered his face to James’s crack, stuck out his tongue and licked, circling round the edge, then poking his tongue’s tip into the center, pressing in and wiggling into it a bit. James seemed very pleased with this, rocking his hips, gently humping the pillows. Soon, Oliver’s face was buried in his brother’s crack, devouring him, breathing him in, and rather enjoying it.

“Ollie?” James moaned after a while.

“Hmph?” replied Oliver, face still buried in his brother.

“May I … may I do this to you?”

Oliver stopped, raised his face. James had pushed up on his elbows and twisted around to regard him sheepishly out of the corner of his eye.

“Erm …”

Carefully, James rolled onto his back, lifting a leg up and over Oliver’s head so both his legs were on one side, and he sat up. “Please?” he begged.

Oliver sat up as well. “Well, uh, I suppose. Weren’t you enjoying it?”

“Of course I was,” James said with a smile. “I’d just really like to do stuff to you.”

“Oh,” said Oliver, feeling himself begin to blush. He cleared his throat. “Well, okay, then. Er, I’ll just …” He stood and removed his pants. He motioned James out of the way and, feeling self-conscious, he quickly crawled back onto the bed and lay down in the same position he’d ordered James into. He was suddenly feeling significantly less in control of the situation, especially in this position. He was experiencing this level of exposure from the opposite side now, and wasn’t sure he liked it much.

He spread his legs a bit, a million things going through his mind as James shifted behind him. First of all, he wasn’t sure he wanted anyone touching him back there, not even James. He felt James settle between his legs, felt James’s hands on the backs of his thighs, moving upward to cup his cheeks, parting them with his thumbs. Oliver rested his chin on his arms, staring straight ahead at the headboard, feeling the heat of James’s breath waft across his most intimate place. He was trying so hard not to move, that he couldn’t help but do just that, twitching slightly in surprise at the light touch of James’s nose against his tailbone. He was concentrating so hard on staying still, every little movement seemed huge to him. He felt as though he was experiencing minor tremors.

He wondered if he smelled okay. He winced a little at the thought that he might not. But he had loved the way James smelled. What if James didn’t really want to be doing this? What if he’d only asked because he’d thought Oliver had wanted it? But that was silly, why would James have thought that when it had been the furthest thing from Oliver’s mind? Oliver wondered what he looked like back there. Did he look exactly like James did? Did James like what he saw as much as Oliver had when their roles had been reversed?

Finally, after what seemed like forever, he felt the warm tip of James’s tongue testing his body. It poked right into the center of his opening, probed a bit, then pulled back. Oliver gasped involuntarily at the contact, and he immediately began to wonder if he tasted okay. The tongue came back straight away, probing longer, licking around the rim, circling it. Oliver’s body reacted. The slippery wetness felt wonderful there, and as James’s licking grew more passionate and hungry, Oliver couldn’t help but push his bottom up a bit, arching as James had done. His eyes slid shut and he spread his legs further apart.

Oliver let out a little groan and his eyes popped open. What message was he sending James? That he wanted James to be the dominant one? He wasn’t sure about that. But with James licking at him this way, he couldn’t remain tense, relaxing again in no time, more little noises escaping him.

“That’s it,” he whispered, “That’s it, eat it, baby.”

James responded, burying his face right in and licking and sucking voraciously. Soon, Oliver could hear him breathing hard, could feel him squirming again, and wondered if he was grinding on the mattress or if he had reached underneath to touch himself. James was even starting to groan, and Oliver could feel the vibrations of those hungry sounds against his body.

A while later, James raised his head and, still panting, he said, “Ollie?”

Oliver glanced back at him. James reached over and picked up the little jar Oliver had brought from the bathroom.

“May I please … use this on you?”

Oliver’s eyes darted down to the little jar of petroleum jelly. He’d intended to use it on James. His uncertainty returned.

“Well, er … okay.”

James grinned at him. “Lie down. Relax.”

Oliver faced the headboard again and waited, all his self-consciousness back. But if James really wanted to …

Moments later, James’s index finger touched him, gently traveled round the rim. So far, so good.

“May I put it in?” James asked.

Oliver gulped. “O-okay. Slowly.”

The pressure on his little hole increased bit by bit until the tip of James’s finger pushed through. James stopped there, waiting to see how his brother was doing. Oliver said nothing. It wasn’t an unpleasant sensation, but he still wasn’t sure about it. He began breathing again, suddenly realising that he’d been holding his breath.

James pushed his finger in all the way and wiggled it around a little. Oliver had to admit he liked the sensation. He couldn’t help but move his hips as James explored his insides. Soon, he was pushing up against James’s hand and rolling his hips in a slow, even rhythm. He pushed up on his elbows and dropped his head down between his shoulders, savouring the new feeling, spreading his legs even further, suddenly very grateful for his bottom being aloft on the pillows beneath him, loving how this position exposed him to his brother’s probing.

“May I insert another finger?” asked James after a few minutes.

“Yeah,” Oliver breathed, nodding. James retracted his index finger, and Oliver knew he was lubricating the next finger in line. James placed his free hand on Oliver’s lower back, where it curved the most, as though to hold Oliver still as he reinserted his index finger’s tip, letting the tip of his middle finger join in. Head still hanging, eyes closed, Oliver arched more, pushing his bottom up further as James breached him once more, his once again erect prick throbbing and leaking against the pillows.

“Do you feel okay?” asked James as he pushed both fingers in all the way. Oliver nodded again. James caressed Oliver’s lower back as he probed deeply, searching for that special little spot within his brother. He found it and stroked it with his fingertips. Oliver gasped, his body jerking, and he began panting shallowly.

“Fuck, Jamie,” Oliver moaned helplessly. He’d never felt anything like this, and he was terribly afraid it was going to make him lose control. He forced himself to steady his breathing, concentrating on the waves of pleasure flowing from that little spot inside him to every inch of his body. He opened his eyes and turned his head to look at James. James met his eyes, searching them for approval, and all at once Oliver realised that, even in this vulnerable position, he was still very much in control.

Channeling every ounce of his dominance into his stare and his voice, he breathed, “That’s a good boy, Jamie.” James’s eyes changed, the question marks fading away, replaced by confidence and a burning heat. “You like that, baby?” Oliver asked. “You like giving me pleasure?”

James nodded, twisting his fingers inside Oliver. Oliver wondered if James was trying to prepare him for insertion of something larger. At this point, Oliver was more than a little intrigued by the idea. And very, very ready.

“Would you like to fuck me, Jamie?” he asked, thinking how, not twenty minutes ago, he wouldn’t have been able to contemplate asking James such a thing. He could see James’s reaction to this. It seemed James’s breath caught in his throat for a moment. He swallowed and his already dilated pupils seemed to pulse once, increasing in size just a bit for just a moment. He nodded and Oliver gave him a seductive, lopsided smile. “Well, I’m ready for you,” he said, wiggling his bottom a little.

James removed his fingers, and Oliver rolled onto his side, facing James. “Come here,” he said. “Give me the jar.” James handed him the little jar of petroleum jelly and scooted closer. Oliver took a large dollop of the translucent substance and began smearing James’s cock with it. He watched James as he did this; James was watching the application, obediently sitting still on his knees. When he was done, Oliver put the jar aside and got back into position, legs spread once more.

James moved between his legs again. He leaned over and gave the area behind Oliver’s balls and thorough licking, shoving a finger back inside him before doing anything else. Then finally, he withdrew his finger and stood up on his knees, and soon Oliver felt the head of James’s dick press against him.

As James slid inside, Oliver had to gasp at the feeling of being filled, at knowing he was being filled by his twin. Then James began to move, bracing himself on one hand, gripping Oliver’s waist with the other.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” James moaned.

“Yeah?” Oliver panted. “Wanna fuck me harder?”

“Yes. Yes, Ollie, please.”

“Do it, baby. Go on, that’s it.” Oliver groaned and pushed his bottom up against James as James began pumping harder. The bed was soon rocking and squeaking, and James lowered himself all the way down, laying his front against Oliver’s back. He stopped and shifted, moving his legs outside of Oliver’s, spreading them while Oliver closed his a bit, then continued thrusting roughly.

“’Atta boy,” Oliver encouraged him. “That’s my Jamie.”

 _My twin,_ he thought. _I’m doing this with my twin, my little brother. My god._ That realisation kept dawning on him over and over, as though it was just too bizarre to remain solid in his mind. But as James began nipping at Oliver’s neck and shoulder, his breath dancing along Oliver’s moist skin, his increasing heat surrounding Oliver completely, his noises of pleasure becoming animal-like and uncontrolled, it all became quite real and quite solid to Oliver. Oliver grunted hard as James made a particularly rough inward thrust. Turned on immensely by James’s enthusiasm, he began moving in time with James.

“You’re so eager, Jamie, I love that.”

“I love it when you say I’m yours.”

Oliver had to think about that for a moment, finally realising what James meant after a few seconds. “You mean when I called ‘my Jamie’?”

“Yes.”

Oliver grinned. “Well, you are my Jamie, aren’t you?”

“Yes! I’m all yours. Say it again.”

“You’re my Jamie, my baby.”

“Oh, god,” James groaned. “I am. I always will be.”

“That’s my boy.” That last utterance from Oliver caused James to let out a desperate cry from the back of his throat and pump even harder. Just for a moment, Oliver was certain he could feel a second heartbeat in his chest, James’s heartbeat, and even if it had only been his imagination, it didn’t matter. It was a powerful moment, a moment when he realised the strength their bond and how truly right it was that they were sharing this with each other.

“May I kiss you?” James begged. “May I kiss you while I come? Please?”

“Gonna come, love?”

“Yeah.”

Oliver turned his head as far as he could. James’s face was next to and just above his own, and he was staring at Oliver pleadingly, the blush of lust colouring his skin from his hairline, down his neck and as far down as Oliver could see. His lips were fatter and redder than normal and looked very inviting. He licked his own lips and did his best to offer them to James without straining his neck. James went for them, shoving his tongue into Oliver’s mouth just as he began to spill into Oliver’s body. His noises went flying down Oliver’s throat and he shuddered against him, releasing Oliver’s lips suddenly a few seconds later and dropping his head, his sounds of ecstasy muffled by Oliver’s shoulder.

“That’s my baby,” Oliver whispered, holding perfectly still, body still arched, concentrating on the feeling of being pumped full of James’s liquid.

James put his full weight on his twin, wrapping his arms around Oliver’s neck, groaning and cursing softly in Oliver’s ear. Finally, he rolled off Oliver and lay on his back, panting. Oliver took the pillows out from underneath himself, placed one beneath his head and offered the other to James. James managed to lift his head out of the way, then let it drop heavily back onto the pillow.

“Oh, god,” James moaned. “I hope Mum and Dad didn’t hear any of that.”

“No. They’re all the way down the hall,” Oliver said, watching James, who was lying there, still breathing hard, mouth hanging open, skin still rosy. Oliver had never seen him this way before, his face and body awash with afterglow, his pretty, boyish face suddenly strikingly handsome.

James finally looked over at him, gave him a smile. “What?”

“Er, sorry,” Oliver stuttered. “I just never noticed how beautiful you are.”

James laughed at that. “What?” he asked again. “Beautiful?”

“You are. You’re really gorgeous.”

James chuckled quietly. “It’s funny, ‘cause I was going to say the same about you.”

“Oh, shut up.”

“I was. You are.”

They gazed at each other in silence for a long while, moving closer until James was snuggled up against Oliver, staring up at him, Oliver gazing down.

“So, what’d we just do exactly?” Oliver asked frankly.

James raised his eyebrows. “We had sex.”

“I know that. But, well, where do we go from here? We’re brothers, James, twins, and we just broke a major taboo. We changed everything. What does this mean for us now?”

“It means,” said James, gazing lovingly at Oliver, “we’re brothers, twins … who fuck. Simple as that.”

Oliver examined his face, his soft features, his warm eyes. _My god, we just made love,_ he thought in awe. “It’s not simple,” he said aloud. “It’s about as far from simple as you can get.”

“You’ve always taken care of me, right?” James explained. “Well, think of this as a … new way of taking care of me.” He reached up and began lightly connecting the freckles on Oliver’s cheek with his fingertip. “’Cause that’s what it is, you know. Us caring for each other.”

Oliver thought he should be feeling a lot weirder about the situation than he did. But he simply didn’t. In fact, more than anything, he wanted to lean down and kiss James just then.

“So, what do you say?” asked James. “Are you cool with all that?”

Oliver couldn’t help but smile. He nodded and replied, “I think so, yeah.”

James smiled back, snuggling closer, and Oliver went in for that kiss he’d been craving, taking James’s fat lower lip lightly between both of his and sucking it. Oliver was quite content to gently abuse his brother’s mouth until he remembered his earlier beef: James’s attitude. He pulled away.

“Wait a minute. I wanted to talk to you about the way you treat Mum.”

“Again? I don’t treat her any _way.”_

“You do, James. As flattered as I am that you’d rather take orders from me, _she_ is your mother. And she’s mine, too, so outranking her feels very strange to me. You can’t choose me over her.”

“I can,” said James easily and calmly. “I have.”

“Well …” Oliver trailed off, taken a little aback by James’s seriousness.

“You’re my twin. How could I not choose you?”

Oliver had to concede that. “Yes, I know what you mean, and I choose you over everyone else, too, including Mum and Dad, but I still show them respect.”

“It’s not that I don’t respect them, you know. I just question their judgment sometimes.”

“And you don’t question mine?”

James shook his head.

There was a large part of Oliver that was quite happy about this, of course, that his other half looked up to him so. But his niggling guilt burrowed right through that.

“You can still look for my approval if you want it. Just be discreet. You don’t have to openly defy Mum and Dad. Just … just look over at me. Inconspicuously, you know? And I can give you a little nod.” He leaned down, touched his nose to James’s, rubbed against it, murmuring, “We can share a little secret look, you know? Will that work for you?”

James gave Oliver his sweetest smile. “Yes, I think so.”

That smile. That cute, boyish smile tugged at Oliver’s dominance, reigniting the protectiveness and responsibility he felt for James alone. He could feel his own gaze being infused with strength and benevolence as he whispered, “That’s my boy.”

James made a happy little noise and rolled onto his side to press his front right up against Oliver’s. Oliver kissed James’s hair as James squirmed against him.

“Um, Ol?” said James, eyes traveling down Oliver’s body. “D’you need me to help you with that?”

Oliver followed James’s gaze down to his still-erect penis, now mashed between them. He chuckled and replied, “That’d be nice, yeah.”

James grinned at him and happily moved down to take care of his caretaker.

END


End file.
